I had come home to the village for my weekly leave. From the main road junction, I looked towards my village, and my heart filled with joy. But then my gaze drifted eastward, and the very water in my heart seemed to melt away. My mouth went dry. It felt as though the sand were slipping from beneath my feet. I had to steady myself. Ganpatrao Nagargoje’s farm was no longer a verdant green. Why did his perennially lush fields now look like they did in the peak of summer? A thou